


Schadenfreude

by tomoe6chan



Category: GHOST | GHOST and Pals (Musician)
Genre: Drabble, Frustration, Gen, Past Lives, this is rlly messy gomen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27439342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomoe6chan/pseuds/tomoe6chan
Summary: Christopher Pierre takes time to think about his past, as well as the "mysteries" surrounding his death.
Kudos: 4





	Schadenfreude

The room was coated in darkness, painted in black with dim light ever-so-slightly creeping through the window.

  
It was dark outside - save for the white, shining specks of light scattered across the magnificent painting that was the dark sky.

  
It'd always been so silent inside the old mansion, giving it a rather eerie feeling to it. One would think it'd been abandoned long ago - the fact that the mansion seemed as though it was ready to fall to pieces did nothing to suppress this theory. What'd happened to its owners was a question that nobody dared to dwell on.

  
There _had_ been absurd rumors here and there spread across the townsfolk about the old mansion - theories of a haunting, that the mansion was inhabited by a vengeful spirit that had long since been forbidden to move onto eternal rest.

  
Of course, these rumors were typically disregarded as nothing more than childish theories. Those who believed in the paranormal were often disrespected for their seemingly absurd speculations.

  
What they _didn't_ know is that those people were right, in a sense.

  
These theories did tend to be a bit... _exaggerated._

  
The only people who knew the _truth_ about Christopher Pierre refused to tell their story.

  
_Which is the way it should be,_ the apparition thought to himself.

  
Hands running through thick, neat hair in frustration. Glass shards were sloppily scattered across the wooden floor, sparkling as the moonlight's reflection bounced off of their surfaces. A large, black metal baseball bat was placed on the ground next to a mirror that had been hastily broken in frustration and anger.

  
Christopher Pierre didn't dwell on the past often. After all, he considered his past to be one full of lies and deception - an entire lifetime of being deceived by those he regarded as his _friends._ People he allowed to get close to him who turned out to be monsters in disguise.

  
He gritted his teeth in frustration, eyes focused on the wooden floor beneath him as he managed to keep himself on his feet. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, feeling relieved for what seemed like the first time in forever. Christopher then chuckled to himself, finding sudden hilarity in the situation.

  
Of course, that was all a lie.

  
He knew the _truth._

  
He was the _real_ monster.

  
_It's a shame,_ he told himself, once again thinking back to the life he once lived.

  
The only one who was willing to tell the story was a liar.


End file.
